


What We're Built For

by kipland



Category: Steam Powered Giraffe
Genre: Drabble, Gen, Sads everywhere but also bromance?? ye, the great depression
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-07
Updated: 2014-08-07
Packaged: 2018-02-12 06:13:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2098653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kipland/pseuds/kipland
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompted by an anonymous asker on my Tumblr, rabbittwalter.</p>
<p>This fic takes place in 1938, during the Great Depression. Rabbit sees the pain and suffering his (then 'his') family is going through during this troubling time and it begins to eat at him, causing tension between himself and The Spine. He never knew he was capable of such intense emotion until The Spine finally coaxed it out of him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What We're Built For

**Author's Note:**

> The Great Depression occurred in the 30s. Not much is mentioned on the timeline for the 30s in general, other than Peter II marrying his wife and the births of his three kids, along with two mentioned big performances. This fic, specifically, occurs in 1938. c: 
> 
> Also, because Rabbit was still a male at this point, he/him pronouns will be used-- I apologize in advance!

The word 'depression' was something that the 'bots couldn't relate to too heavily. With the limit on their emotional capacities that came with being non-human, it was easy for them to skip over the more emotional meaning of the word and go right to logic: a depression was "the act of lowering something or pressing something down". And The Great Depression was doing a pretty damn good job of doing just that-- not only to the land and the economy, but to the people themselves.

Rabbit had never seen Peters II and III so upset. So lost. They didn't know what to do. Tossing ideas around and letting them smash right into walls when they didn't work, screaming at each other and at their family members-- he'd seen Mary leave her husband's office making strange noises one day. He didn't like those sounds. They sounded like she was in pain, reminded him of how Pappy sounded when he talked about Miss Delilah.

He'd tried to talk to her-- tried to wrap his copper arms around her like he sees Pappy do with Miss Iris when she's sad. But Mary pushed him away. He let her, because he didn't want to upset her more, and she gave him a look like she was sorry but she didn't say anything. She just left him standing there, still making those sounds.

"Is there anythin' w-w-w-we can do?"

The Spine looked over at his older brother. Sometimes he had to remind himself that Rabbit was, in fact, older-- because, most of the time, the titanium 'bot acted more like the adult between them. His hands paused over the dish he was washing and, for a moment, he did nothing; and then he sighed, setting the plate down in the sink and turning off the tap. "You know as well as I do that there's nothing to be done."

"B-But there's _gotta_ be! I've never seen everyone l-l-l-lookin' this wrecked before, Th'Spine."

Bright green photoreceptors settled on Rabbit's form. "All we can do is do as we're told."

"But that's not enough!" Rabbit all but shouted, indignant as ever. "If it was enough, no one'd be this sad!"

"Keep your voice down," The Spine hissed through a puff of steam. "Peter IV is sleeping."

"Aw, to heck w-wi-with that!" Rabbit stood from where he'd been reclined in one of the dining room chairs, looking a bit high-strung. The Spine blinked in faint surprise, because it was Rabbit that usually coddled the children, took care of them like they were his own. (And, in a way, they were. But that's beside the point.)

"You're being irrational," The Spine told him, turning to face Rabbit more fully, tall and imposing as ever.

"Did'ja ever think that y-y-y-yer stupid rationale might be what keeps ya from seein' the truth'a things sometimes?" Rabbit's voice was quieter now, but a tinge more biting. The Spine tried not to take it personally, knowing Rabbit was just angry at the situation, not him. But it was difficult to remain objective.

"I think it's what makes me the level-headed one and makes you the emotional one."

Rabbit's cheek vents expelled a thin veil of steam. "Oh, yer treadin' on some _mighty_ th-th-thin ice here, Spine."

"You need to calm down, Rabbit," he said evenly, keeping as level-headed as possible. "You're getting very worked up."

"And why shouldn' I?! We're frayin' at the seams here!"

"As long as we're still in one piece, there's still hope!" The Spine finally raised his voice a bit, jaw tight.

"And what is _that_ supposed to mean?" Rabbit inquired aridly with a roll of his optics.

"Colonel Walter--"

"Pappy," Rabbit corrected, as he always did.

_"Colonel Walter_ built us for Miss Moreau. To make her happy. She's not here any longer, so we were re-purposed. Now, we save lives on the warfront and sing for whatever crowds we're told to because that's what we're good at, Rabbit. We're no good at business, at comfort, at whatever you think we should be doing, so why are you so hung up on what we _can't_ do?"

"Because I _wanna_ do it! I _wanna_ be able to do it!"

"It's just not possible, Rabbit."

It was then that The Spine realized his brother's optics were leaking. Black fluid - oil - was running down his cheeks. It was also then that he realized his chest was being pounded on, and he looked down, seeing Rabbit deliver half-hearted blows to his chestplate.

The Spine knew Rabbit wanted to help. But they were already doing all they could. In times like this, there really wasn't much they _could_ do. And he wished his brother could accept that, if only to spare him the obvious anguish he was going through.

Titanium arms encircled the clockwork automaton's waist-- and he struggled for a moment, because he didn't need The Spine's pity, but the embrace was what he really needed right now and he knew it.

Rabbit sagged into his brother and wept, copper fingers curled into the shirt The Spine was wearing and holding on tight. He finally knew that those sounds meant, because he was making them now.

And The Spine held him back firmly, because at the end of the day, all he had were his brothers and the Walters.

~~They'd be losing one of those Walters soon enough.~~


End file.
